The Good Hair Family Sitcom

S2 E6.1: Unusual Artists

Cyrus's POV

I'm drinking my morning coffee as usual while TJ grills tomatoes and onions for his avocado toast, and Wyatt chugs back a glass of apple juice at the kitchen table. The only sound is the sizzling of the juices in TJ's pan and the gulping of my son with his cup. Overall, it's calm—until Jayda comes marching into the kitchen, dropping her backpack on the ground with a clunk.

"So which one of you is gonna take me to my driver's test after school today?" she questions.

"That's today?" I respond.

Jayda is going to be able to drive. This now-sixteen-year-old girl who says stoplights are just suggestions is going to get her license. How terrifying.

"Yeah," Jayda confirms. "I've been reminding you guys daily since my birthday."

"So you're gonna be on the road, huh?" TJ says with a smile on his face but worried wrinkles in his forehead. "Fun. Make sure to tell me what times you're driving at so that I can make sure I'm not on the road."

"You have zero faith in me," Jayda scoffs.

"No, I have plenty of faith in you," TJ counters, "but are you sure you don't want to practice more?"

"I don't need practice," the girl asserts. "I'm perfect."

Seeing as she's not going to change her mind, I can only trust that the person judging her driving will make the right call.

"We'll both take you there right after school," I say.

"Can I come?" Wyatt chirps, and I look over at him.

"Sure," I reply, "but wear your—"

"Helmet," he finishes. "I know."

________________________________________

Brayden's POV

If there's one thing my friends have taught me in this lifetime, it's that you can't be best friends with two drama kids without eventually being sucked into that life yourself. I have to admit, there is something reassuring about having a place to go after school where all the people know you and savour your stories unlike the many other obscure faces you see during the day. Here, I am not the keener kid who uses words beyond what the other kids deem satisfactory. Instead, I am Brayden, known by name, the kid who helps make sets. It's not much, but it's enough for me. I prefer that to anything in the spotlight. I'd rather not have a thousand eyes critiquing me constantly.

Linny and Kelsey walk beside me down the isle as we enter the theatre. Mrs. Wise is standing off stage, flipping through notes while the cast members stand on stage, some running lines, others marking dances. Behind the curtain is the backstage where all the costumes and props are stored, as well as where regular drama classes happen during the school day, since there's plenty of floor space and various types of seats for people to loiter on.

"I think I was born to be Jane Banks," Linny says as we walk, "or at least play her."

"If by that you mean you were born a female child with sandy blonde hair, then yes, you were," I reply.

"Brayden," Kelsey says, "next year you should join the cast."

"No, I'm very comfortable behind the scenes," I reply, "and even then, I only joined set crew because you practically forced me."

"Don't think of it as forcing," Kelsey tells me. "Think of it as a supportive nudge."

"Okay. You forcefully supportive nudged me."

As the three of us get up to the front of the theatre, Mrs. Wise becomes aware of our presence.

"Wonderful!" she exclaims. "Now that everyone's here, let's get my dancers for 'Chim Chim Cheree' to the stage."